


Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

by chinae



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-30
Updated: 2001-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:56:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinae/pseuds/chinae
Summary: Sponge creature demanded a tale.





	Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow by Erika

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow  
Author: Erika  
Email:   
Pairing: None. Mind you something may be implied.  
Fandom: X-files  
Summary: Sponge creature demanded a tale.  
Beta reader: Anika, who encourages my um ... naughtiness and jamwired, the blue chick.  
Website:  
http://www.geocities.com/carlajanep/Erika/EEpart00.html  
http://www.egroups.com/group/EvilChild

* * *

"It has been snowing for the past few days, and I am stuck here in this cabin in the middle of nowhere. I wonder what would happen if I were to stay here. Would the world end? Or would it stay the same, going about its business? I am not a young man anymore, and I grow tired of this game of cat and mouse."

"I am tired of looking in people's houses, wishing I could be part of that family, of that love and connection. Looking around, seeing the scarcity of the place, I ask myself, 'In this other world, would I have had children? A son perhaps?'"

"I think about these things, wondering what could have been had I taken that road instead of this one. Then again, I'd probably be just as miserable. After all, what would I own in that world, aside from those children? What do I own in this world? The only things I own are the clothes on my back and my gun. In all actuality, the clothes were borrowed from my last victim. And the simple fact is he had better taste than I."

Alex stopped to drink his vodka.

"It is not every day that I contemplate my life. Not every day that I stop to ask the questions that led me to the here and now. Questions. That is what my life has become ... a series of questions containing no answers. I wonder if I'll ever find what I seek. If I'll ever know what I am looking for. Maybe I never will."

Alex took out his gun and laid it on the table.

"My protector. My judge. My executioner. It is amazing how I have had a closer more lasting relationship to this, the killer of men, than to any other human being. Mulder inclusive."

He poured more vodka into his glass.

"Even this does not calm me. Vodka that should be as soothing as a mother's milk; this too has lost its appeal.

Alex picked up the drink and hurled it across the room. The glass shattered across the wall, its contents spilling to the floor. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, sprawling further into his chair as his mind replayed a long forgotten poem...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
And sorry I could not travel both  
And be one traveler, long I stood  
And looked down one as far as I could  
To where it bent in the undergrowth;  
Then took the other, as just as fair,  
And having perhaps the better claim,  
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;  
Though as for that the passing there  
Had worn them really about the same,  
And both that morning equally lay  
In leaves no step had trodden black.

How many times had he mouthed those words? Not enough. Maybe too many. Keeping his eyes still close, he could see the two roads. The two paths. The two totally different lives. With his head resting on the chair, he finished reciting the words that currently haunted him.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!  
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  
I doubted if I should ever come back.  
I shall be telling this with a sigh  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-  
I took the one less traveled by,  
And that has made all the difference.

This is what my life has become, he thought to himself dispassionately.

"It is time."

He put on his snow gear, prepared his weapon and went outside, leaving the comfort of the small cabin. Alex slowly tracked his way to another cabin miles away and waited. Waited for his target to come out and end another chapter in Alex's life.

Finally, when he thought he could stand the cold no longer, the door of the cabin opened, and his target stepped out.

Without hesitation, Alex lifted his pistol and fired.

Checkmate.

Alex rose from his position, flexing his cold and stiffened muscles. With one last look at the direction of the dead man, he whispered, "Goodbye Mulder."

*******

Poem: Robert Frost's 'The Road Not Taken.'

  
Archived: September 29, 2001 


End file.
